


BLOOD BONDS

by APendingThought



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Hurt Kíli, Injury, Major Character Injury, Protective Fíli, Protective Thorin, Uncle Thorin, Worried!Fili
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-01
Updated: 2014-01-01
Packaged: 2018-01-07 00:26:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1113317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/APendingThought/pseuds/APendingThought
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The bonds of brotherhood are tested on the road to Erebor. Kili wounded in battle creates unrest in the heart of Thorin and bitter decisions are to be made.</p>
            </blockquote>





	BLOOD BONDS

**Author's Note:**

> Another Hurt!Kili fic. As though the 2nd film didn’t provide all that was needed and more. This is a re-telling of events from the first film if Jackson’s script had leaned a little more down my path.

BLOOD BOND

Gandalf the Grey was a sly one. Although the Company bore no ill will, they'd little cause to trust him from first their paths crossed, as dwarves will place trust in scarce few outside their own. When perils unfurled only the wizard’s command would move Thorin, King under the Mountain, a tremendous thing indeed. The Grey Wizard had lead them deep into wild country, where they'd stumbled directly into harm's way. The lads delighted in a brawl, having spent too long astride ponies and tending campfires. Too eager to shed blood and earn their spurs in battle. Yet when savage howls rang across the plains and the war cries of bloodthirsty Orcs met their ears, even the eldest among them held fast to the hilt of his axe. 

Outnumbered the party dashed across the open tundra, darting from boulder to boulder, seeking haven like rats while the ragged little wild man gave the enemy good chase. Gandalf lead onward, herding the company toward a white rock in the distance. The breath was nearly spent from the party yet even the sturdy hobbit, red-faced and panting, made ready to meet the oncoming throng of orcs when Gandalf bellowed:

“Here you fools! Make haste!”

Fili’s aim was sure, his iron daggers flying at an approaching rider, catching it in the throat. Kili’s bow sang, aiming his mark into the gaping jaws of the warg as they charged, bellowing and foaming. On and on the orcs drove them, seeking to break up the band. But Kili and Fili fought as one, valour unmoved even as they fled.

Thorin stood his ground by the threshold of their haven, herding his kinsmen one after the other down into the dark unknown passage revealed by the wizard. One by one they flew down into the ground until only two remained.

“Kili!” Thorin roared. The archer, in midst of nocking another arrow, turned and fled for the underground hold. The heat of battle was high in his veins as he made for the rock, crowing triumphantly at his kill. Thorin grunted his urgency, a ready arm outstretched to hurl the brash youth down with the rest of the company when suddenly all things seemed to stop.

In the melee, Bilbo himself barely heard the fine whistle of an arrow sailing with deadly intent.

At the very moment his shaking fingers met Thorin’s, brave Kili was brought down by the thud of a crude barb lodged fast between flesh and bone. 

“U-uncle?” Kili’s breath failed him, cutting short his words. “Forgive me!”

“No! Kili!” Thorin’s bellow echoed down to the huddled company below, chilling every dwarvish heart. Fili fought his way to the open breach of the tunnel, clawing to get back to the light when he was roughly tumbled backwards by the limp body of his kinsman. 

“Brother!” He shouted though Kili was already slipping beyond their reach. The archer breathed yet his face had grown cold and ashen. His comrades gathered swiftly in alarm. 

“Away all of you! Give him air! Back, I say!” Oin swatted and cursed, fumbling to unwind his satchel of herbs. Kili held fast to the hand of Fili, battling darkness, as his brother laid him on the cold ground. 

He could not be placed on his back without driving the cruel point deeper. Fili bore the stricken weight of his brother against his own broad shoulder. The blackened tip had torn asunder the leather jerkin, the surrounding flesh a dead color about the shaft. The hobbit wasted no time, rushing forward to take Kili’s weapons from him. Muttering, Gandalf pushed the Company aside with his staff.

“Let me through! Now! All of you!” Knelt beside the ailing dwarf, the wizard bent low to study the wound, pressing down on it as Kili cried out in anguish. Fili paled to the tips of his ears. 

“Gandalf! Stop!” 

Bilbo was at that moment aghast for few living in Middle Earth would dare command a wizard. Gandalf, however, seemed to possess more care for the weapon itself than for the wound or its heir.

“"It is Morgul.” The grey wizard grimly tapped the iron barb with his finger. Fili’s arms tightened about his brother. “Can you not help him, Gandalf?” 

A great sorrow passed o'er Gandalf's weathered brow and he averted his eyes.

“His hurt is beyond me.” 

All breath silenced in the dark musty hollow. Only the faint stirring of Kili's air could be heard as Thorin Oakenshield approached.

If the hobbit had ever doubted that the King Under the Mountain had a heart, the expression on his face as he tended his own was proof of it.

“Wizard.” Thorin’s countenance was stormy and his voice so grim, Bilbo shivered in fear to hear him address Gandalf so. “You lead us to this place away from light and air.” He threw his cloak about Kili’s shivering body. “His blood is on your hands if our quest ends thus.“

“Hold Son of Thrain! All urgency now lies with your nephew!” Gandalf returned sharply, his eyes sparking embers. Like most wizards, he did not take kindly to threats. With a nod from Thorin, Oin took his leave to examine their fallen kin. Then Gandalf spoke and his voice was for all to heed. “Kili lives though he will not for very much longer if none of you mark me. Beyond this tunnel lies a passage to freedom. You must put all your faith forward and your strength to the last if we are to remain thirteen.”

“And what cause have we now to trust you?” From his quiver, the Leader of the Company drew a slim, golden arrow strangely crafted. He flung it upon the ground where it clattered at the wizard’s feet. 

Bilbo's eyes widened in alarm for he could guess its origin.

“Taken from the body of an orc as I escaped.” Thorin growled. “Elvish make. You plan to lead us straight into the realm of our ancient foe!”

Gandalf drew himself up to full height, his expression stern and more fearsome than Bilbo had ever seen. “Friend or foe, we have no choice!” 

“Wizard, a little more light here?” cried Oin. “I can nary see me own hand in this Pit!”

Gandalf struck his staff once against the stone and the dim cavern was at once flooded with a pale white glow. Once more the Wizard addressed Thorin in a voice low and terrible. “The life of your kinsman hangs by a thread. On the open road as I stand, he will surely perish. Think well on this Thorin Oakenshield, before you choose blindness over reason.”

“He got this wound defending us!” Many eyes were on Fili as he peeled back Kili's torn travel leathers with great care to help Oin break the cruel barb and slowly draw out the splintered shaft. Kili writhed in his brother's grasp, twisting in agony beneath Oin's gentle ministration. Once more, Fili implored his King.

“Uncle, I would sooner offer up my own life to save his! If the elves have cause to hinder us we will be ready for whatever threat they intend. But I will not risk the life of my bloodkin, my _brother_ , to go against the Wizard.” He cradled his brother's limp body close, quieting his low moans. 

Thorin’s great fists opened and closed on the hilt of his axe, pale eyes fixed with grief on the scene which lay before him. Bilbo wondered at the great many doubts and ill imaginings that now weight his mind. When at last he met the wizard’s gaze, fury etched deep across his face.

“I do not like this plan.” His voice like a storm cloud settled over the gloom. “Long has elfkind been our enemy, betrayed us to doom and death. But I can see no alternative to this madness.”

The Great King under the mountain lifted his hand and faced his company, his expression impenetrable and grim.

“We take the wizard’s road. Oin!” Oin looked from his task at his king's command. “Bind his wound as best you can and make ready!”

Their young archer now drew breath unevenly as though each one pained him, a rust colored stain soaked through his clothes. “Come, make haste. He is fading.” Oin urged Fili to fetch bandages and salve. While the young dwarf scrambled at this task, Bilbo watched as Oin swiftly pressed a small rag over Kili’s nose and mouth. At once, the youthful limbs began to shake then thrash about violently, eyes shut tight in resistance. Bilbo almost cried out in dismay but Oin held fast, bearing all his weight down as firmly as he dared.

“Forgive me, laddie.” Oin muttered in his ear. “But t'will spare you the journey. ”

Gradually, Kili’s feeble movements grew heavier and weaker and his eyes fluttered closed, his broad chest heaved as he surrendered his will to the draught. Blessedly swift, his struggling ceased and he lay still. Even before Fili returned laden with linen binding, the body of Kili lay peaceful and cold as death. 

“What have you done?” Fili cried, dropping his burden to fall beside the body of his brother. 

“My own tincture, 'twill do him no harm. He'll sleep until we reach haven. Pray it will slow the taint's progress for it is already in his blood.” The old dwarf deftly cut away the remains of Kili's tattered shirt and began dressing his wound that now bled freely. With the lad gone under, the flow of red soon calmed until finally it stopped altogether.

His work done, Oin was fast on his feet again to report all measure had been taken to preserve the life of Thorin's sister son. Fili would not be consoled, however, leaning close to press an ear against Kili's breast. The powerful heart beneath fluttered in chaos, as though fighting its own battle.

“His heart falters!” He cried. “We must make haste! I will bear him on my own back!”

“Fool! You haven’t the strength.” Thorin braced himself gruffly as he knelt to gather his wounded nephew close to his side. “Tie him to my back. I’ll bear him to our journey’s end.”  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
The road could not make up its mind as to whether it was long or narrow, halting or winding, jagged or flat as the company made their way down the glen. Shadows hid their steps and the air was still and watchful. All around them, each dwarf felt the gaze of unseen eyes hidden in the trees. Thorin bore his precious burden with careful tread, Fili close at his heels, searching for the faintest stirring of life from Kili. The Dwarf King walked on, silent and steadfast, seeming never to tire or strain. The blood of his sister’s child beat strong against his shoulders, driving him forward step by labored step. At length the stone staircase gave way to gently flowing water, fresh and clean as it had been purified by the rock. Not one but many a wearied dwarf stooped to wet their throats from the ice cold stream. Having replenished his own waterskin, Fili offered it first to Thorin. While the King under the Mountain slaked his thirst, Fili brushed a few drops across Kili’s brow, wincing at the unabated heat of his skin. He would take no water but Oin forced a bit of dampened cloth past his lips. 

“He burns.” Thorin growled darkly to the wizard, masking his fear. “The road cannot be much longer.”

“Indeed.” The wizard gestured with his staff over the dale and past the lush canopy of trees in the distance. “Behold, the Valley of Imladris, Home of Elrond. Or journey is near its end.”

Joy and relief flooded through their company at these words, and the hobbit’s eyes filled with wonder as he gazed down upon the majestic spires of the Elvish Dwelling. The dwarves did not share in his marvel yet all seemed eager to lay down his pack and eat good food again.

“Not a moment too soon.” Oin muttered sniffing the bloodstained bandages that had grown foul and heated to the touch. Kili’s breathing was troubled and shallow, shapeless words falling from his lips. “I fear he will not last the night.”

“Troublemaker to the end…” Thorin cursed under his breath. As gently as a wolf bears its cub, the king shifted his nephew’s limp body further on his back. “Make haste! Lead on, Wizard.”

The company of dwarves bristled with guarded fear as they were lead down the valley and onto the golden paths that lead towards Rivendell. The hobbit, for his part, could see no reason why his companions found so much discord at the golden leaves and gently singing brooks. Such beauteous surroundings seemed no cause for alarm and the hobbit could feel his wearied limbs grow lighter the closer they neared to their destination. Gracefully carved bridges of stone marked the gateway into Elrond’s realm. Elvish guardsmen at their posts rang out thin reed horns to signal their coming. 

“Now our host knows we’re here.” Gandalf commented lightly. Thorin made no reply, shouldering his way behind the wizard. By the time they reached the gates of the Great House, they were all of them spent and dusty from the road. Yet Thorin remained ever watchful, murmuring his discontent to Dwalin and Balin at his side. Thus the party gathered with trembling hearts to meet their unfamiliar host. 

It was not long before a long-robed elf, fairer than any creature their folk had beheld, descended the stairs. Gandalf bowed his gray head in greeting as the tall elf addressed the Company.

“Mithrandir! Hail and well met.” The light Elvish tongue was new to many of the younger dwarves. The hobbit's ears twitched in interest though many eyes were on Gandalf. This was the first any had heard him addressed by his Elvish name.

“We come seeking Lord Elrond.” The wizard said in the common tongue. Bilbo realized that this noble fellow must be the keeper of the keys.

“My Lord Elrond is not here.” The steward replied.

“Where is he?” The wizard’s answer came at the call of an Elvish trumpet sounding in the distance. No sooner had he spoken than a band of elvish riders came stamping towards the gates, banners flying in the breeze. Thorin quickly set his nephew’s body to the ground, entrusting him to Oin’s care.

“Form ranks!” He barked and the dwarves moved as one to obey, forming a circle around Oin and Kili. The riders were swift and to their mark, circling around the party of war-hungry dwarves, weapons drawn. 

“Only fools seek foes when there are none! Put down your arms, I say!” Gandalf pushed his way to the front of the ranks to be met by the Lord of the Valley himself. The colors of his banners flew gently in the breeze and he dismounted with regal grace. 

“Gandalf!” His voice to the hobbit’s ears was as clear and pure as the spring water. “It has been too long, old friend!”

“Hail Lord Elrond of Rivendell!” The two embraced as old friends would and it seemed beyond reckoning to those gathered that such powerful beings could share fraternal bonds. 

“From where have you come?” Gandalf asked.

“We have been hunting a party of orcs in the hills.” Elrond replied. “Strange for Orcs to wander so close to our borders.” He turned solemn gaze on the gathered company of dwarves. “Something has drawn them hither.”

Thorin stepped forward, head raised boldly to meet the Elf Lord though he spoke no words. 

“Well met, Thorin Oakenshield, Son of Thrain.”

Thorin returned no greeting in kind. “You know my name. Yet I cannot recall yours.”

“I know many things, King Under the Mountain.” The Elvish Lord circled slowly round the Dwarf King, moving with the grace of all his people. “I know you and your party are on a quest. I know you have the blessing of our friend Mithrandir.” He paused, brows knitted as though sensing something in the air, his voice grew stern. “I know one of your number hath fallen and great pains were taken to bear him hence."

“Kili… Thorin murmured. “He was shot down by our enemy.”

As though in dreams, Kili stirred and cried out. His dark hair clung to his brow and he groped the air feebly, searching for his uncle. The Elvish Lord's gaze was moved but he spoke with regal bearing.

"If that is so, then only my hands may restore him.” 

Thorin gazed long at the tall regal elf, bitterness hard as a steel blade in his eyes.

“Elf magic.” He said at last, lip curled in distaste. “I care not for it.” 

If the ill-met king's words troubled the Lord of Imladris, he gave no sign.

“As you will, Son of Thrain. You have no enemies here. I see that you are weary and your company is spent. Come. Take shelter and rest. We will tend your wounded and learn what we may of your quest.”

“You will not touch him!” Thorin’s tongue once more claimed the better of his senses so much that his own company shrank at his words. “I will not stand here and bargain for the life of my kin with an elf!” 

Gandalf raised a hand to silence him. “You must forgive the manners of our leader, my lord Elrond. He is exhausted and his heart is filled with dread for his nephew. His mind is not clear.”

The Lord of Rivendell did mark Gandalf’s words yet he waited with grace for Thorin to yield.

“We accept your offer.” Thorin spoke. “Only because we have no choice.” Reluctantly the dwarves parted to reveal Oin knelt beside the body of Kili, so still and pale he seemed already bereft of life. The Elvish Lord moved to his side, placing a gentle hand on Kili’s damp brow. Thorin bristled at the sight of Elvish hands laid on his kin but he spoke no words.

“The fever is upon him. His life is fading.” He raised a hand to signal one of his riders, speaking the Elvish tongue. 

“Bear him to my chamber. I will come anon!”

Fili clung tightly to his brother as the rider reached down to take up Kili’s limp form. At once, Kili stirred in the rider’s grip, calling out in his delirium.

“Fili…no… _Uncle!_ ”

“Stop! Where are you taking him?!” Fili demanded angrily.

“Peace Fili!” Gandalf stilled the overwrought dwarf with a touch. “He is being taken to a place of rest and healing. You shall meet again when he is whole.”

“My place is with my brother!” Fili snarled, fingers wrapped around his blade. For a moment, Bilbo's heart trembled. Would there be a brawl here in this peaceful house?

But Lord Elrond addressed the brave dwarf nobly, hand raised in command. “Be at peace, Son of Durin. Since you cannot be parted, you have leave to attend your kin. Go.” Fili was quick to dash after the horses bearing his brother away. Thorin watched them depart, foul-intent growing deep in his bosom. As though reading his thoughts, Elrond’s voice once more reached out to him.

“Stay, Great King. Stay and rest. Set your mind at ease. There is fresh water for your companions and food. You shall have word of your kinsman by morning. Rest and have hope.”

“Our thanks.” Thorin bowed his head. With a swift nod, the party of dwarves unwillingly followed the wizard and their enigmatic host one by one into the Great Hall. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Music of a fabric not spun by men or dwarf echoed through the gilded chamber. Sounds plucked by exquisite hands on silvered strings sang out unheard by Thorin’s company. A fell disquiet thrummed throughout their party, disdainful whispers and glances belied the comforts of the Elvish Lord’s hospitality. 

“They will not take much leave, I fear.” Gandalf spoke quietly. “Until they know their kinsman’s fate.”

“Their number is small, there is little wonder.” Elrond murmured. He motioned to his servants. “Bring wine and food to our guests.” To Thorin he said. “Now I must with haste take my leave and see to your brethren. Rest and let not grief befall you.” A curt nod and he was gone. The hobbit had heard tales of old about the healing powers of elves. In all Middle Earth, no race held more knowledge of husbandry and no magic was there more powerful than that which could call a weakened spirit back from the brinks of death.

Bilbo brooded into his cup of mead. Old hobbit storytellers had ways of stretching the truth. What, truly, did the Shire folk know of miracles and healing? For the sake of the kind-hearted archer, he prayed they had not been exaggerated. 

Green doors wound with gilded carvings enclosed the healing chamber. Statues of women holding vessels of water stood as guards before the threshold. Again and again, the dwarves turned their eyes to these doors between gulps of wine and mouthfuls of roast meat and fruit. No sound came forth nor any breath of a whisper. Troubled was their company and downcast their looks. 

“Courage friends, in all Middle Earth there is no greater mender of wounds than Lord Elrond. No black power will triumph o'er Kili if Elrond be at his side.”

“Let us hope for your sake, Wizard, that is true.” Thorin vowed from where he brooded, hand ready on his hilt.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Within the chamber of healing, amid the gentle glow of burning candles, Fili waited in despair. 

His brother's body had been laid out upon a soft pallet, writhing in pain and fever. Stripped of his cloak and leathers, cool woven fabric covered him, a tunic of Elvish make. Fili stayed by his side, pressing a dampened poultice to his brow and murmuring soft words. The air perfumed with incense and the song of silver fountains did not quiet his trembling heart. Kili’s body burned with a fire no water could quench. Around him, Elvish attendants were crushing strange leaves, their strong scent filling the dim-lit chamber. Fili had never known such remedies before nor could he trust them entirely. Though his surroundings were comforting indeed, his mind was troubled to see his beloved brother in such anguish. Wine was offered though he took none. Food, of which he knew not of nor cared for, was prepared for him. All his thoughts were bent on Kili. Runes were carved into the bedpost, strange letters he could not recognize. Were they elvish prayers for the sick? Or for souls making ready to depart? Fili’s head rang in confusion and grief. Kili’s face was white as the glowing moon, growing paler as each hour passed. So feverish he was beyond any words in Dwarvish or Elvish. How could he yet live?

Elrond's presence was not unlike a cooling breeze on a mid-summer’s day. His footfall so light as to hardly touch the ground so Fili was not aware of his coming. Instantly the light in the chamber softened as though in reverence of the Lord of Rivendell. Fili watched as though dreaming the scene before him as Elrond seated himself beside his fallen brother and took up his lifeless hand. It seemed to Fili as though the Healer were searching for signs of ailment only he could detect, messages borne from every labored breath.

“His heart has near yielded. The Orc’s poison was delayed by a draught of some making.” Elrond’s words were soft as he addressed Fili. “I did not know your people had such wisdom.”

“We can mend our own.” Fili replied, glancing with ill ease at his brethren. “Will he live?”

“That is for him to decide.” With long fingers, Elrond took up a long silver strand of thread. A bright point of gold appeared in his hands. “Your healer was able to staunch the blood and dislodge the barb but the darkness had already found his heart. I shall draw out the rest and when all is cleansed, I shall seal up his flesh until his spirit is whole once more.”

Kili’s face was a mask of death, bloodless and still even as the Elf Lord with finest precision pierced the torn edges of his wound. Once more Elrond spoke to put Fili’s heart at ease. 

“Courage, Son of Durin. Your kinsman lives. There is breath still in his body. There is blood yet coursing in his veins. By my hands, he will be restored. Now you may watch me work or you may take respite with your Company.”

“I’ll watch.” Fili nodded curtly, taking his place by his brother’s bedside. "Dwarves do not like to be kept in the dark." 

A smile ghosted across Elrond's lips.

“As you wish.”  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
A strange voice was calling out to him. In his brief years, he had never heard a tongue so pure and beautiful, it seemed to him as though it were made from the glowing heart of a sapphire. The spirit’s song wafted all around him, setting into his skin and cooling the fire in his blood. He heard his body sigh. The song was so sweet, it flowed like water through the parched pathways beneath his skin. When it fell silent, he lifted his voice after it.

_Do not leave. Please. Come back._

His vision swam and played tricks, golden fingers weaving in and out of his sight. Cool hands on his body soothed his pain, called him back from blackness and despair. His heart, reawakened from death, thumped painfully in his chest with the strength of a forge hammer.

_Am I dreaming? Have I died?_

“Neither, Brother.” Fili fought back tears of joy. Kili’s eyes blinked open, near blinded by the light within the chamber. He was surprised to find himself clean and warm, wrapped in furs and woven blankets. A strange but sweet smell filled his head, drowning all his senses but the closeness of his kin eased his heart above all else. 

“Fili…?” He breathed.

“And Oin.” Fili added as the elder approached the bedside. "Happy to see you back among the living, laddie." 

“Wh-where--?” 

Kili glanced about his surroundings in a daze, greatly addled.

“You are healed, in the house of Elrond, Lord of Rivendell.

“Rivendell? Where’s that?” Kili murmured, confusion clouding his youthful face. “Some fancy inn?”

Fili’s laughter sounded from far away, ruffling Kili’s mussed hair. “Nay, brother. If you believe that, I fear the fever has tangled your mind after all.”

Kili struggled to right himself, wincing in pain as he did so. Fili reached out to still him. “Lie back, you are not done mending.”

“Fili! What happened? I think I do remember….the tunnel. Uncle! Where is Thorin?” Kili groaned, eyes searching frantically.

“He is surprised to see his nephew still among the living.” Thorin’s deep voice rumbled behind Fili. 

“He has hardly left your side for fear you would waken without him.” Fili grinned as Thorin placed a loving hand over Kili’s heart.

“You will be the death of me yet, Kili.”

“Almost were.” Chimed Oin from the bedside. “He carried you all the way down the valley of Imladris. You slept like a stick past the golden woods and sacred fountains.”

“I…I have no memory of this.” Kili shut his eyes, chest heaving. “Ah! Durin’s bane, it feels like a forge at work between my ears!”

“ Up we get!” Oin raised Kili from the soft pillow on which he rested to hold a goblet to his lips. “Here now, drink it down slowly.”

Kili’s weakened throat closed around the foul-tasting brew.

“By Mahal, the taste—“ He blanched at the bitterness.

“Vile yes, but it will chase what’s left of the fire from your blood and stop the hammering in your head. Lord Elrond brewed it himself.” Kili made a sour face but braced himself to finish the bitter potion. Cooled linen was placed across his brow and he felt at ease once more, sleep and the water’s song overtaking him.

“Rest. You’ll join us when you wake.” Oin patted his chest and took his leave, followed at last by Thorin. Only Fili stayed behind to keep watch over his slumbering kinsman. 

The green doors opened into the corridor. The little hobbit, waiting just outside the chamber, stood eager for news.

“What of Kili?” He cried. “Does he live?”

“The fever has broken. He will mend.” Thorin strode past the armored guard to stand before Elrond in his parlor. On bended knee he bowed his head before the Elvish Lord. His followers bowed in turn, loyal to their King.

“I kneel in thanks for the life of my kinsman and heir and bow in humility before the hands that restored him.”

“In peace and honor rise, son of Thrain.” Elrond spoke. “May our people live to see better days between our kindred.”

“I was mistaken.” Thorin grasped the hand of Elrond. “I have known only sorrow and hatred between our kind. This day has forever changed me. My party is few in number and my quest that of an errant fool but it is one I am willing to die for.”

To the surprise of even Gandalf, Thorin tore loose a hidden gem that hung from a chain about his neck.

“This jewel belonged to my father’s father and was given to me on the day he died. Take it in tribute for the blood of my kin flows again because of you.”

For a dwarf to offer up freely a sacred gem of the earth is an act unheard of in the history of Thrain and his people. Though elves by far treasure things above gold or jewels, Elrond was wise enough to accept this noble treasure from the Dwarf King’s own hands.

“Each one of your brave band seem willing to follow you unto Death.” Elrond replied gravely. “This jewel, though rarer than any found beneath the earth is not equal to one drop of kinsman’s blood. Hearken well Thorin who Would Be King, for to win back your homeland, it may cost you more than you know.”

“We take that chance.” Dwalin moved to stand beside his Lord. “We are the last of the Dwarves of Erebor and we will not be denied by man or beast or elf.”

“Indeed not.” Elrond surmised, passing the bright jewel to a member of his counsel. “I shall keep this gem in a place of high honor in my House, as a symbol of our everlasting bond. I rejoice with you at the restoration of your company. And now good friends I must depart to hold counsel with Mithrandir. I bid you all good night.”

The King of the Mountain took no rest as night fell and the stars burned bright in the sky. Fingers of moonlight cast their glow on Kili’s restful face, his hair damp with cooling sweat, the seal of a fever quelled. Over and over he touched his nephew’s hands, his pale cheek, his brow, as though to carve his memory into his fingers. Beside him Fili at long last breathed quietly, sleep finally claiming him. Such devotion was rare among his kin. There was little doubt in Thorin’s mind that if Kili had been lost, so too would Fili have abandoned all hope.

“We cannot be parted.” Thorin whispered to his sleeping nephew. “So long as the mountain stands, you must go on. You must live to see our glory regained. To see our race continue and mend the errors of your forebears.”

Kili’s chest rose and fell deeply, peaceful in his dreaming. 

“Uncle…”

Thorin bowed his head in his hands.

“You must live…for me.” In all his brief years, Kili never once saw his noble uncle weep. By Thrain’s beard, Thorin vowed, so it would remain.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
The light of morning set rays on a merry gathering of dwarves, renewed from their rest and in high spirit. Each one filled himself on vast amounts of the Elvish whey bread and downed countless flagons of mead as they awaited news of their long missed brother. 

The hobbit sat and fidgeted. Reunions were something he was not overly fond of in the Shire, family falling upon eachother with nary a second greeting. But these dwarves, bless them, had shown his heart that he knew little of the meaning of family at all. 

Every dwarf's breath stilled as the doors to the common chamber opened and Fili, fresh rested and seeming lighter than he had been, entered.

“Well lad? Where IS he?” Bofur bellowed.

“Aye, where are they hiding the runt? I’ve a mind to run ‘im through meself for giving us such a fright!” Bifur was swift to wag tongue. Fili seated himself at the table but said not a word though the hobbit glimpsed the shadow of a smile on his lips.

At some considerable length, to the ire of all gathered, the dwarf spoke:

“To think our road might have ended here, with the elves in their forest, and not in the halls of our fathers?” 

“What riddles! Speak plain boy! What have they done with Kili?” Tempers flared and axes clanged in ire when suddenly there was heard a timid knocking at the door frame.

There stood Kili, clad in mended travel leathers, new cloak and boots. His eyes were once again clear and merry, his cheek a healthy hue. All hearts were set ablaze with joy to see him restored to health.

“Am I too late for breakfast?” 

Many dwarf embraces at once is a robust enough dish to offer any at full vigor. For a young dwarf still regaining his feet, it all but brought him to his knees. At once the dwarf found himself lifted and tossed, squeezed and ruffled until the breath was gone from him. Roaring laughter and merriment filled the chamber, shaking the shining halls of Rivendell to their foundations.

“Rascal! Give ‘im here!”

“Thought you were a goner, by Thror’s axe!”

“We’d already divided your share of the gold!”

“Durin’s bones, you’re a blessed sight laddie!”

“Peace lads, he’s newly healed! You would break him once again?” Fili chided his companions.

“Nay, brother, I am well.” Kili grinned, held fast in their warm embraces. “In fact, I feel strong enough to take on an Orc hoard alone!”

“You’ll need your strength young archer.” Gandalf spoke, materializing as he often did from the very air itself. “The road ahead will not be an easy one.”

“Gandalf.” Kili bowed before him. 

“I am happy to see you on your feet again, Master archer.”

“Forgive me. I fear I have delayed our quest.”

“Nay. We came seeking answers and from our trials gained an ally. ”

Elrond, hands parted in brotherhood, joined the gathering of dwarves, wizard and hobbit. At his side, the Dwarf King stood, his axe polished and leathers oiled.

“May this day be the start of all healing between elfkind and the race of dwarves. For the day may come when old enemies must unite and join rank. When dwarf may call an elf his equal.”

Kili dropped to one knee before the Elf Lord, lifting the hem of his garment to his lips.

“Rise, Kili, of the proud blood line of Thrain. Take heed and keep that blood within your veins as you face perils unknown on the road to Erebor.”

“I will, Mighty Elrond. Indeed, I owe you all that is mine to give.” His voice trembled and shook with humility.

Fili clapped a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “We are in your debt, Master Elrond.”

Elrond raised his hand, commanding all who stood there.

“Go now. The light is fading. I do not think our paths shall cross again in this age or the next but may this day live on in the hearts of both our kin.”

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
The company was strengthened with renewed vigor as they made ready to depart. All packs were filled, boots thatched and cloaks lined with ready supplies. Fili rarely let his brother wander far from sight. Kili, for his part, delighted in testing his muscles, grasping the hilt of his axe, and letting fly two arrows to make use once more of his bow arm.

“It is like new!” Kili cried in wonder. “I can scarce feel the memory of the wound.”

“That is Lord Elrond’s doing. You will not be as lucky next time.” Thorin Oakenshield spoke from the head of the ranks. Kili bowed his head. 

“I will remember, Uncle.”

“A wound bravely won in battle is a reminder that all who fight must one day fall. If I can help it, I will see us all standing in the Halls of my Father. Kili…” 

Kili found himself bereft of words as Thorin embraced him, caught up against the Dwarf King’s armor. His smile faded, however, when the words of his Uncle whispered low in his ear.

“Do not think I will not leave you behind. The quest waits for no dwarf.” Kili paled slightly but nodded in assent, fist clenched tight in his uncle’s cloak.

“Yes, Thorin.” He swallowed. Thorin lifted his voice to the company.

“We move onward through the mountain pass! Stay sharp, be on your guard and make no move unannounced!” 

As they left the peace of Rivendell behind them into the misty mountains and gray clouds overhead, Bilbo’s thoughts were far away in the Shire. Bloodkin ties among hobbits were generally formal, distant relations and cousins materialized from over every hill and dale. Bilbo himself had never preferred the company of his aunts and uncles, all too busy with possessions and goods to be bothered with matters of the world outside. Yet this small band of dwarves shared such kinship, bonds forged by years of longing, solid and unbroken as the very heart of the mountain. Not even dragon fire, he mused, could break it.


End file.
